CXVI

CXVI

Let me not to marriage of true minds

admit impediments.

Love is not love

which alters when alterations find.

Or bends with the remover to remove.

Oh no!

It is an everfixed mark,

that looks on tempests and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wandering bark,

whose worth's unknown, though his height be taken.

Love's not time's fool,

though rosy lips and cheeks,

within his bending sickles compass come;

Love alters not with his brief hours or weeks,

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

If this be error and upon me prov'd,

I never writ nor no man ever loved.

- William Shakespeare